


silence and the stars

by ezekiels



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Erica dies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezekiels/pseuds/ezekiels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is in shock after finding Erica's body and it is Boyd who finds her and takes her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	silence and the stars

**Author's Note:**

> for palmate on tumblr.

Lydia’s hands are covered in blood and she can’t remember how they got like that.

She’s trembling, trembling from head to toe, and with each passing second the trembling becomes more violent. She’s shaking, shaking, shaking.

Yet her mind feels completely clear.

There’s blood on her hands and she is sitting on a swing. She used to come here as a child, before Beacon Hills. She drove to this place, drove with blood all over her hands. She will have to clean up the mess soon. Blood must stain.

Her parents use to shout. Shout so loud that no matter how loudly she turned up her music she could hear them. She can see the window to her old house from here. She used to climb out of that window.

That is where her mother screamed for a divorce.

That is where Lydia climbed into a car, drove away, and never looked back.

The chains of the swing begin to rattle. The sound fills the night and she realizes that she probably shouldn't be out here at night. All alone, covered in blood, sitting on a swing. No one even knows where she is.

She should call someone.

But her phone. Oh, she’d dropped her phone by... by… by…

By the body.

The body because she can’t think of it as Erica. God, she didn't even know the girl’s name until recently. Barely paid her attention. Now she’s dead. Blonde hair staining in a pool of her own blood and it was pooling everywhere.

Lydia looks up at the sky and it’s starless. That seems appropriate. Why should a sky have stars when some poor girl got murdered? It shouldn't. Nothing should shine.

Nothing should have shined for her, when Peter was destroying her world and no one noticed.

She throws up violently, wrenching out of the swing. She clings to its chains to stop from falling but the rush of movement and the sensation of puking doesn't stop the sensation. She’s falling, falling down.

A girl is dead and she’s thinking about herself.

She falls back into the swing when she’s done and looks at her hands. Pale, covered in blood, and wrapped around a metal chain. They look dangerous, like they can kill. She bet she looks dangerous.

She begins to shiver.

She left Erica’s body all alone.

There’s a sigh behind her and she stiffs, irrationally thinking Peter has followed her before the idea of a mugger or murderer even crosses her mind. She internally screams at her limbs to move but they refuse. She sits frozen in place as they come around to stand in front of her, revealing that they’re not Peter or a mugger or a murderer.

It’s only Boyd.

Oh.

Oh, he will hate her.

Erica was his friend and Lydia left her alone, alone and dead. Dead makes no difference. Alone is alone.

She can’t stop shaking.

“Lydia,” Boyd gasps, coming forward in a rush. It’s only when he catches her that she realizes that she passed out for a moment. His arms are warm and comforting, his eyes filled with worry not deserved. She closes her eyes tight against the sight.

She feels the sensation of rising, feels the sensation of being held and cradled. He’s warm, oh so warm. When did she become so cold?

“Lydia, where’s your car?”

Neither her mind nor her mouth will move to answer the question.

He finds it easily enough. She guesses that’s the lucky thing about being a werewolf. He probably followed her scent or something strange like that. It feels like a long distance. She can hear music.

He sits her up in the passenger seat and buckles her in. His presence shifts. She feels his eyes. “Lydia, you’re scaring me.”

She opens her eyes and looks at him. He’s beautiful. Dark and kind and encompassing. He could blot out the moon. A car passes and his eyes shine bright before going dark again. Dark or light, his eyes never cease with their worry and concern.

She doesn't deserve it.

She left Erica.

She never spared him a thought before now.

Tomorrow feels years away but she understands herself enough to know none of this will matter eventually. She’ll pick herself up and go back to who she’s always been. But for now? For now it hurt to be that person.

She wants numbness.

She wants silence.

Boyd touches her face. Her cold cheek warms under the weight of his palm. “Lydia?”

She says nothing. She wishes he would go away.

Boyd sighs and stands, closing the door to go around to the driver’s side. He spends a few moments wiping blood from the steering wheel and seat. He spends a while after that doing the same to her hands.

The keys are in the ignition.

He drives.

Her old house fades and her new one looms up ahead of her too soon. She wants to dive from the car and run back the way they’d come.

Boyd gets out of the car, opens her door, lifts her into his arms.

No one is home. The house key is with her car keys. He sets them on the table beside the door, closes the gaping wound behind him, and carries her upstairs.

Upstairs, there is her room. He finds it without directions and, without direction, he helps her out of her blood smudged clothes and into new ones with averted eyes. He pulls back the covers, places her against the sheets, pulls them back over her.

Leaves.

Comes back.

He sets a glass of water on her nightstand then digs her cellphone out of his pocket, stained with blood cleaned away. She looks forcefully away from it. He takes it from the nightstand and puts it in the first draw. It clatters. He winces, closes the draw.

She says nothing.

“Lydia, are you alright?”

Still, she says nothing.

He watches her. “Do you want anything?” He looms out of the corner of her eyes, a shadow in her room. He’s comforting and she wants him gone.

She left Erica. She doesn't deserve comfort.

“I’m going.”

He turns to leave.

She grabs his hand, stopping him. He can’t go. She needs him. She’s going to go mad alone. She needs to become herself again. She needs to be a little selfish. She deserves to be selfish.

He stays, lies fully clothed on top of the blankets beside her. They do not touch. They barely look at each other. Neither of them say a word.

She sleeps.


End file.
